I am a great believer in the flow state and working in the zone. This is one reason why I am an artist. Because I constantly enter this flow state whilst painting. …

How do you use your art journal/Sketchbook? Journal V.S. Sketchbook I love journaling. I always have. From scribbling stories in notebooks, when I was young, to creating scrapbooks, then sketchbooks full of art, to bullet journaling for organisation and working through my problems with Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) exercises. Only, I never called…

A poem on Nature’s Heart Once, there was no term to describe That feeling of terror, Mankind Facing, in awe, the majesty Of Nature’s heart, thought He was in the presence of God. So, He wove a word to fill That empty spot. I was writing recently on the theme…

Its been a while since I wrote a poem. They seem to come up at the darkest times… Why do I strive? To be remembered. My pen bites paper. Immortalising my memory With ink, paint, wax Some magic. Crafting, from nothing The images, I conjure Could be executed by no…

The assignment Earlier this year, a fellow artist reached out to me through my website asking if I could write her artist’s statement for her own website she currently was building. …

As creatives, we can grow very attached to our creations, and get upset when anyone leaves a bad comment about them. Yes, this can hurt. But it is necessary, especially in the age of social media, to grow a thicker skin. Speedy artist I have always been a very fast painter. In…

Because I have no choice but to listen to the radio at work, I often don’t think to listen to music when I am alone. Pandemic Music Many people swear by the productive value of music, but I find it almost impossible to listen to any music when writing. …

Social media is a funny beast. I recently started a YouTube channel. By recently, I mean last year. And my growth has been appallingly slow. However, there are a few reasons for this. I had no idea how to work the editing software. And filming videos is not as easy…

a poem I long to see stars again, Shining bright Clouds blot them out, In blackest night. Through the rising wind I catch a flash of white A circling seagull’s wing; The crying echoes in my brain, As they rise On the winds of change. I live in a small…